


IRL Improv Might Not Have Been the Best Idea

by Antifreeze_at_its_Finest



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: A rom com under extenuating circumstances, Ember Island (Avatar), F/M, Fake dating is complicated when one half doesn't know it's fake, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fancy parties don't live up to the hype, Fire Nation Nobility, Set during Zuko's return to the Fire Nation, Zuko is a good son even if Ozai doesn't deserve it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:55:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27929356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antifreeze_at_its_Finest/pseuds/Antifreeze_at_its_Finest
Summary: When Ozai decides to throw a party for the Fire Nation nobility at Ember Island, Zuko is tasked with escorting his father's date to the venue. The only problem? She's seasick, because the universe has always hated Zuko and everything he stands for....So he decides to improvise.The last thing you expect while promoting for your theatre troop is some scar-faced whacko asking you to be his father's fake date (read: without his father KNOWING). Needless to say, the night doesn't go as planned.
Relationships: Zuko (Avatar)/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	IRL Improv Might Not Have Been the Best Idea

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! So this actually came about after I took a "Which Avatar Character is Your Soulmate?" quiz with some friends and got Firelord Ozai as my result. Yeah... wasn't too happy about that. I originally meant for this to be a crackfic Ozai/Reader, but as expected, I deviated from my plans about halfway through and turned this into a Zuko/Reader instead. No regrets!
> 
> Please enjoy!! ^_^

Zuko had opted for regular street clothes on his way to the docks. Aside from the infamous scar on his face, there was nothing on his person that could have betrayed his identity as a Fire Nation royal.

Now, surrounded by flocks of sweaty people pushing him every which way, he wondered if that was such a good idea.

Zuko tried his best to dodge the crowds along the boardwalk, the docks in sight but feeling oh-so far away with how many _bodies_ separated them from him. He never did like being around people. The heat, the sweat, the _noise –_

“Come see _Love Amongst the Dragons_ this week, performed by the critically acclaimed _Ember Island Players!”_ a voice called in the distance. Zuko couldn’t help but scoff, childhood memories of cross-dressing actors and a pretty gruesome musical number resurfacing in his mind. He’d had nightmares for weeks after seeing Hitoshi the Dragon rip into a severed head, torso, and butt, all dancing onstage until the actors realized their wardrobe had malfunctioned and scurried backstage to sew themselves together.

He let out a sigh of relief as he finally emerged into the docking area, mostly empty save for a few passengers coming off a small luxury ship. He approached the person nearest to him, a middle-aged man in exquisitely embroidered robes that were _definitely_ too warm for this weather, if the sweat stains near his armpits were anything to go by.

“Hello sir, is there a Lady Kaguya aboard this ship by any chance?”

“Kaguya? I never met a Kaguya on this ship, sorry boy.”

Zuko flinched at the address. Months of being called _Prince Zuko_ and _Your Highness_ had spoiled him a bit, sure. Still, he persisted.

He moved on to a group of young women who blushed and fawned over him, but through their giggles, he could only make out that no, there was no ‘Kaguya’ on this ship. Same thing with the old married couple, the newlyweds, and the little boy with a runny nose that he’d talked to as a last-ditch resort.

About to give up hope, a young man in uniform – one of the crewmen, he assumed – motioned for Zuko to come over. Hiding in the shadow of the vessel, he murmured almost too quietly for him to hear, “Lady Kaguya actually got seasick and spent the entire trip in the infirmary. I don’t think she’s in any condition to do, well… anything right now.”

“Hey, servant boy!” a shrill voice called from an open porthole. “What are you doing off the ship? I need my herbal tea pronto!”

“Coming, Lady Kaguya! It’s just… there’s a man here asking for you!”

“Oh…! Fire Lord Ozai, I’ll be down in just a moment!”

“It’s not the Fire Lord, Your Grace, I think it’s just one of his servants!”

Zuko would’ve lost his temper right then and there, but the woman’s next response had him absolutely shell-shocked.

“What?! I travel thousands of miles and throw my guts up on the open seas, only to be escorted by a _servant?_ I’m staying here, my headache’s just gotten worse! And oh God, now I’m feeling nauseous again!”

 _“What?!”_ Zuko yelled, attracting multiple stares.

Oh, this wasn’t good. His father would be so disappointed, and Zuko could just imagine Azula mocking him when he got home, her voice shrill, cruel, and unforgiving. Plus, even if he wasn’t on the best terms with Ozai, Zuko knew what a terrible feeling it was to be _stripped of your honour,_ and he couldn’t imagine a fate worse than his father showing up stag at tonight’s party after bragging about his new lady friend.

 _Lady friend,_ ha. They hadn’t even met yet, according to whatever source Azula used to get her palace gossip. Kaguya was too tied up with her family’s trading company in the colonies, not that that stopped his father from demanding her presence tonight. Poor woman, seasick from days of sailing. Zuko almost felt bad for her, but nowhere near as bad as he felt for himself.

…Wait a minute.

That was right, Ozai had never met this woman.

Struck by inspiration, Zuko thanked the man – who looked quite shaken by the whole affair – and ran back in the direction of that obnoxiously loud voice.

“Come see _Love Amongst the Dragons!”_

Ah. There it was.

∞ ∞ ∞

You could feel the sweat running down your neck, forehead, and back as you marched on with your acting troop, cursing the heavy layers of fabric engulfing you. Next time there was a production of _Love Amongst the Dragons,_ you were opting out of Vagabond B for sure. You already looked like a hot mess on a regular basis, but the sloppy patchwork of rags upon dirty rags hanging off your body made you look like you crawled out of a sewer. The heat was really starting to get to you, too. Another twenty minutes of this and you were sure you’d collapse into a puddle of sweat, cheap fabric, and stage makeup.

“Come see _Love Amongst the Dragons!”_ you called. Your throat was sore from so much yelling, but you were nothing if not tenacious. And besides, your shift was ending soon.

“Showtimes are at noon and 8pm, catch it before it’s gone! You will _not_ be disappointed! _Please_ come, _please,_ we need your money!”

Being broke as hell was a pretty good motivator, too.

“(Y/N)!” You flinched as one of the senior actors smacked you upside the head. Ouch. You probably deserved that, but it still hurt. You trailed behind the others for a moment to rub the rapidly forming bruise on your noggin. God, this day couldn’t end soon enough.

“Excuse me?” a voice called behind you. You turned to see a young man with a – oh wow, now that was one heck of a scar. Maybe if you brought him in as a reference for the makeup crew, they’d finally stop painting your wounds to look like smudges of tomato sauce.

“Can I help you?” you asked. Hm. Upon further inspection, you were sure you’d seen his face somewhere. Maybe on the concept posters for that new production? What was it called again? _The Prepubescent Male in the Glacier?_

“Yes, I was wondering if I could hire you for, um… an acting job? It would pay handsomely, I can assure you.”

“Oh…! Absolutely! What is it?”

“It’s… a bit of a long story. I… I need you to pretend to be someone else.”

“…You need me to _lie?”_

Okay, this was a little… _immoral_ compared to your usual gigs, but you were in no position to refuse a paying job. And hey, acting was lying in itself, wasn’t it?

“No, not lie! Well… _yes,_ lie, but only for tonight.”

You froze. Warning bells began to sound in your head.

“Um… I don’t know what kind of image you have of theatre actors – I mean, yes, we live to entertain, and some of us are pretty flexible from our acrobatic training, but we are in _no_ way prostitutes–”

The man choked on air and turned bright red in the face. For a second you feared he was having a stroke.

“No, I wasn’t…! Oh my God, oh my God you really–”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and started to take deep, calming breaths. You made to bolt, but he started talking again before you had the chance.

“I need you to pretend to be a guest at a party tonight. Someone’s date, actually, except they won’t know you’re a fake,” he said. You internally breathed a sigh of relief, but this new proposition wasn’t sounding so hot either. It sounded… deceptive. Mean, even.

The man sighed and started rubbing the back of his neck uneasily, looking as apprehensive as you felt. Still, as you glanced down at your mangled Vagabond B costume and felt the growing void in your belly, you decided that, quite literally, beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“…Just for tonight, right? Okay. Who am I?”

The man looked up at you, eyes wide in surprise. A small smile crept its way onto his face, and you decided you liked the way his eyes crinkled and the perpetual frown between his brows vanished.

“Your name is Kaguya and you’re a Fire Nation noblewoman from the Earth Kingdom colonies. Your family owns the largest trading company in the country, and you’ve been invited to Ember Island to attend a party hosted by the Fire Lord…”

∞ ∞ ∞

You tugged at the stiff collar around your neck, silently wishing that you’d worn your sorcerer costume from work. It really wasn’t anything more than a black bed sheet with armholes, but it would’ve been a hell of a lot more comfortable than this ridiculous ensemble Ozai had put together for you.

Still scratching at your collar, you looked up to see your… _date_ staring at you disapprovingly. Behind him, Zuko looked at you with wide-eyed panic, shaking his head furiously. Oh, that was right. You had a role to play.

You lowered your hand from your neck and cleared your throat awkwardly, channelling your improv classes for some half-baked excuse.

“Is this dress pure silk? Anything less has me breaking out into hives, haha.”

“…It’s linen, actually.”

“...Right, of course. Care for something to eat?”

Oh, you’d better have enough cash to buy a luxury fabric company and burn it to the ground by the time this night was over.

Ozai nodded grimly, guiding you to the refreshments table with a hand at the small of your back. You internally flinched at the contact, but forced yourself to smile. As you followed him, your gaze flitted around the room, looking for something to distract yourself from the nightmare you were currently living.

Whatever glittering expectations you’d had for a party hosted by the royal family were nothing compared to the scene before you. A large chandelier hung from the ceiling, the candlelight casting a yellowish glow on the nobles, military leaders, and business moguls schmoozing on the ballroom floor. The scent of ladies’ perfume, overpriced booze, and roasted meat permeated the air, waves upon waves of hollow glamour that made you nauseous. You eyed the women’s dresses, layers of fine red silk – or was it linen? You’d never know – draped over their bodies, and admired the thin gold chains woven into their hair that sparkled even in the dim candlelight.

You peered down at your own ensemble – a floor-length red gown with an intricately woven collar made from golden thread. You’d lost count of the number of times you’d almost tripped over the hem of your skirt, each time leaning on Ozai for support as Zuko had a mini heart attack from a few feet away. The gold bangles stacked up your forearms had been digging into your skin for the last hour, and if you didn’t sit down soon, you were sure your ankles would turn to jelly in the 4-inch heels you’d barely managed to squeeze into. Even compared to the other women here, your outfit definitely stood out the most. Hmph. Leave it to Ozai to have the gaudiest piece of arm candy in the room. You never thought you’d miss your grimy sewer rags so much.

“I recommend the roasted turtle duck, it’s an Ember Island specialty. I do hope the food is to your liking, Lady Kaguya.”

“Oh yes, of course. Thank you for your hospitality, Your Majesty,” you offered back with a smile. You reached for the tongs lying beside the tray and stacked a few pieces of duck breast onto your plate. You briefly thought of the little turtle ducks in the pond outside the theatre, but shook off the memory with a grimace.

“You must tell me about your time in the colonies. You’ve spent the last five years there, haven’t you? That must have been quite the challenge.”

You froze, trying to remember everything you could from your troop’s production of _The Lone Boulder_ last spring. What kind of place was the Earth Kingdom again?

“It took some time to adjust, naturally, but I’ve kept myself busy. I’m set to inherit the family business, so I’ve travelled a lot, just to get acquainted with the mines, the cabbage farms, that sort of thing.”

“Right, I remember hearing about your family’s company. You export natural resources, correct? I’m surprised you’ve gone to the sites yourself. Most nobles would see it as… undignified,” he said with a sneer. Oh God, no. You couldn’t afford to blow your cover, not now.

Just when you thought things couldn’t get any worse, they did.

“Hergh! Geh, ugh…!”

Curse that piece of turtle duck lodged in your throat. Now was really _not_ the time.

As Ozai fumbled to pour you a drink, Zuko looped his way around the refreshments table to execute a sloppy Heimlich manoeuvre. You could feel your eyes watering as you gasped for air, Zuko’s arms around your waist doing little to comfort you in your current situation. God, you’d better get a bonus for this.

(Then again, if he refused to pay you after such a crappy performance, it wasn’t like you could blame the guy.)

The stubborn piece of poultry finally shot out of your throat, landing on the floor with an unceremonious _plop._ Zuko quickly kicked it under the tablecloth before anyone could see.

You accepted the crystal glass Ozai held out to you, his face a mixture of disgust and… yeah, just disgust. Fabulous.

“Thank you for your assistance, Prince Zuko,” you said, trying to sip on your drink daintily as if you hadn’t just hacked up a gallon of your saliva on the ballroom floor. The alcohol burned as it ran down your throat, bringing tears to your already watery eyes.

“Of course, Lady Kaguya,” Zuko said, his look of concern fading into annoyance as he gritted his teeth. “The _last_ thing we need right now is one of our guests in a state of… distress.” His expression darkened on the last word. Hm. He must be pretty emo on a regular basis, you figured, since Ozai paid it no mind.

“Yes, thank you, Zuko. Kaguya, are you feeling quite alright? You could always retire to the guest room,” Ozai offered, and you about jumped at the suggestion when he continued, “Although, I’m sure all the other guests are eager to meet the woman who had the honour of being escorted here by the Fire Lord himself.”

You frowned as your one chance at freedom was snatched away as quickly as it’d appeared. It suddenly dawned on you why this man had the reputation of being a manipulative, arrogant, pompous bastard. To think, he had a son who cared so much about him that he’d hired an actress off the street just to save his father’s pride.

“I think I’ll be just fine, Your Majesty,” you said, smiling in a way you hoped appeared genuine. “Like you said, tonight is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I wouldn’t miss it for the world, and certainly not a little nausea.”

You thought you heard Zuko scoff, but he covered it with a cough so quickly you couldn’t be sure.

“Wonderful. The other nobles have been looking forward to meeting you all evening. If you would,” Ozai said, offering his arm to you. You took it without hesitation, flashing another phony smile.

Ozai led you to a group of guests on the far side of the ballroom, Zuko trailing far enough behind to go unnoticed. The men he introduced you to had little hair and even less to say of actual substance, while the women looked you up and down with barely concealed distaste. You tried not to wither under their scrutinizing eyes, holding your head up high like the rich, sophisticated girl you (allegedly) were.

“The colonies? It must’ve been difficult for you to maintain any semblance of decorum around the poor _._ Hopefully they didn’t rub off on you too much,” a lady about your age drawled, peering at you down the length of her nose. You fought back the urge to tell her that the only thing uglier than her personality was the puke orange tunic draped down her body like a rotten tangerine peel.

“Ah, well, it’s not so bad. My time around the less fortunate really opened my eyes. You’d think that the privileged would do more to help those who have less, but I guess a lot of them are too busy enjoying champagne and pearl necklaces to care about much else.” You smirked as she clutched the beaded strands around her neck self-consciously, excusing herself to the restroom.

As you watched her figure retreat, you caught Zuko’s eye from a few feet away. The shock on his face melted into a laugh, and then a warm smile. You weren’t sure how a prince could sympathize with your childhood of hunger pangs and sleepless nights on dirt roads, but you felt pride bubbling in your chest regardless.

Those thoughts vanished once you saw the look on Ozai’s face. With his eyebrow arched and arms crossed in front of his chest, you were sure that, if he wasn’t skeptical of you before, he certainly was now.

“That’s an interesting view for a noble to have on class differences. Tell me, dear, is that solely derived from your time in the, ah… colonies?”

“...Yes, of course. I suggest you take it into consideration.”

His eyebrow rose even higher into his receding hairline, if that was possible. You gulped, grasping at whatever straws you could to steer this conversation away from your identity as a broke theatre actress.

“What I mean is… I think it would do you well to act in the interests of the poor. It would be… such a waste for you to conquer the world, only to be overthrown by the common people. You need to eliminate political unrest, right? Prevent any chance of a… revolution?”

You winced hearing your voice rise in pitch with every word, that last sentence coming out as little more than a squeak. With great hesitation, you peered up at Ozai’s face.

Oh. Oh, shoot.

This bastard was _laughing._

“My dear, that’s kind of you to suggest, but I can assure that by the time this war is over, all of my subjects will be down on their knees _worshipping_ me for bringing our nation to victory,” he said with a pompous grin. Then, as if he hadn’t drawn enough attention to himself with those ridiculously huge golden shoulder pads, he tapped his glass with a fork, silencing the room as he raised his wine in a toast.

“To our soon-to-be victory! To defeating the Avatar! To the _Fire Nation!”_ His voice boomed around the space and was met with an immediate chorus of cheers and claps. You joined in half-heartedly, letting out a sigh of relief. Crisis averted.

(Averted by Ozai’s huge ego and extremist ideologies, but averted nonetheless.)

Suddenly, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned to see a rather frantic-looking Zuko, his cheeks red and breath coming out in shallow pants. You felt your heart jump into your throat.

“What is it now?” you whispered, peering over at Ozai from the corner of your eye. He was too busy preening under his followers’ praise to notice you. Good.

“The real Kaguya’s at the door demanding to be let in. The guards stopped her because they think _you’re_ Kaguya, but she showed them her invitation and now they’re getting suspicious. You need to go right now. I don’t know if or when they’ll let her come in here,” he said, eyeing the doors fearfully.

“Oh my God, okay, um… I’ll just say I’m feeling sick and sneak out the restroom window?”

“No, there are guards patrolling every inch of this place. I’ll go with you, but we need to hurry before–”

“Who is she?!” a shrill voice screeched from the ballroom entrance. “Who’s the little tramp pretending to be me, huh? Show yourself!”

“…Actually, I think we’re too late.”

∞ ∞ ∞

If your vagabond costume made you look like you’d crawled out of a sewer, spending the last five days in this filthy cell made you look like you’d never left.

Since _birth_.

As you huddled in a ball on the stone-cold floor, you tried to ignore the feeling of sweat and grime clinging to your skin. Hot tears began to pool in your eyes again, and you buried your head between your knees. Oh God, you were going to waste away your youth and die in here, you just knew it.

“Something troubling you?”

Your head immediately shot up. Turning to the cell beside you, you saw an old man with long, tangled grey hair in need of trimming. The thick layer of dirt on his clothes and face betrayed how long he must’ve been here – at least a few months, you gathered – but they did nothing to dim the light in his eyes. They crinkled when he smiled at you, and for a moment, it seemed almost… familiar.

“Oh nothing, prison’s _great,_ not like I’m worried about dying in here without experiencing anything worth living for!” You threw your hands up in the air, sarcasm dripping off each and every word. You had to admit, anger and annoyance were a welcome change from wallowing in your own misery. Having someone to vent to after being alone with your thoughts for so long was a small comfort too, one that you’d missed more than you thought.

You felt yourself begin to crack.

“I’m sorry, I just… I’ve lived my whole life in poverty, and just when things seemed to be coming together, I got greedy and royally screwed myself over. _Literally._ God, I’m never gonna try to pull a fast one over the Fire Lord again, not even if his son comes to me begging on his knees.”

Your companion was silent for a moment before he spoke again.

“And what did his son ask of you?”

“Honestly? It was pretty sweet. His dad’s date couldn’t make it to this party, but he didn’t want him to be embarrassed, so he hired me to pretend to be her.”

“I see. And do you blame him for your current situation?”

You paused for a moment to think. With a sigh, you gave him your answer.

“No. His plan was pretty awful, but his intentions were good. It’s not like he forced me into anything, either. I agreed because I was desperate and greedy.” Another wave of self-loathing washed over you as you hung your head.

“Hmm… I see. I don’t think you should be so hard on yourself, Miss,” the man said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “It is never wise to be blinded by greed, but there is nothing wrong with wanting a better life for yourself, especially when you grew up with so little. Zuko knows this as well.”

“Really? How could he, though? He’s a prince.”

“Yes, a _banished_ prince up until recently. And then a fugitive, and then a waiter!”

He threw his head back in a chuckle, and it seemed so out-of-place, so carefree given your situation, that you couldn’t help but smile. It vanished quickly though, as something wistful seemed to set into your companion.

“Zuko is like you,” he began once more. “He will blame himself for this, but if he is who I hope he is, he will find a way to set things right. Remember what you’ve learned and live honestly. If you do, I see nothing but good food, a warm bed, and a bright future in store for you.”

“Um… that seems a little unlikely given that we’re still stuck here. How can you be so sure?”

“Look behind you.”

A cloaked figure began to draw near your cell. You scrambled away as quickly as you could, pressing your back against the cold, damp wall as you feared for the worst.

You gasped as the figure drew back their hood to reveal a familiar face.

“Prince Zuko?”

His face crumpled as he took in the sight of you, all greasy hair, dirt-caked skin, and filthy rags. Well, it wasn’t a big change from how he’d met you the first time. The only difference was that this grime was real and not some charcoal dust hastily applied by the makeup crew.

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m so sorry I got you tangled up in all this, I was just being stupid and irrational, and I didn’t even consider your well-being when I–”

“No, Zuko, stop blaming yourself. I knew what I was getting myself into. This isn’t your fault.”

Zuko looked at you in such utter disbelief that it made you wonder if he’d lived his whole life being blamed by everyone around him, including himself. You felt a pang of sympathy in your chest at the thought, but there were more pressing matters to attend to.

“I wouldn’t object to some help getting out of here, though. At least, that’s what I’m assuming you’re here for?”

Zuko shook himself out of his stupor at the sound of your voice. “Yes… yes, I’m here to help you get out of here.”

“Oh thank God! While we’re at it, do you think we could rescue the man in the cell next to mine? I promise he’s–”

“No.” Zuko said it with such conviction that you couldn’t help but be taken aback.

“No? But he’s–”

“Please, Miss,” your bearded companion chimed in. “My destiny has told me to stay. Yours is telling you to go. I hope you live a full, honest life.” He graced you with another of his smiles, but it wasn’t lost on you how he refused to look at Zuko.

“That’s right. We need to go now,” Zuko continued, already fumbling with the keys to your cell door. “There’s a cargo ship leaving for the Earth Kingdom colonies tonight, we’re going to smuggle you on. Once you’re there, you can pose as an Earth Kingdom refugee and catch a ferry to Ba Sing Se. The city’s been captured by the Fire Nation, but there are refugee camps hidden in the surrounding areas. You’ll be safe there.”

With a click of the lock, he swung your cell door open and you launched yourself into his arms, silently apologizing for the dust and dirt you were probably smearing onto his cloak.

“Thank you, Prince Zuko. You’re a good person. Your father’s a douchebag, but he’s lucky to have a son like you,” you breathed into his chest. “Let’s meet again when you become Fire Lord. Hopefully then you can take my name off the wanted list.”

You felt a warm pair of arms wrap around you as he chuckled.

“I don’t know… that performance at the party was pretty criminal.”

∞ ∞ ∞

“Zuko! Your dad’s crazy ex-girlfriend is outside the shop demanding to see you!”

“His what?!”

Zuko cursed as the oolong tea he was pouring spilled onto his apron, staining the white linen an ugly brown. He set the pot down and quickly untied it, setting it over one of the chairs to dry.

“I don’t know,” Aang continued, scratching his head. “She seemed kind of young to me, but I’m pretty sure she’s the real thing. She says her name’s Kaguya?”

A familiar figure burst through the door, the dull pallor of her skin replaced with a rosy glow, and her grimy rags exchanged for an embroidered moss-green tunic. Sokka trailed in a few steps behind, wheezing and sweating as he bent over to catch his breath.

“I… I tried to restrain her but… she’s just really… _persistent,”_ he managed between gasps. “Why do rich people… always have to have… their way…?”

“And scene,” you said, taking a bow. Raising your head, you made direct eye contact with the new Fire Lord, smirking all the while. His eyes widened as a chorus of confused shouts came from his friends.

“I hope this clears the last of my offences, Fire Lord Zuko. I wanted to make up for my previously ‘criminal’ performance. Actor’s pride, you know.”

He closed his gaping mouth, the initial shock beginning to fade now. The corners of his lips quirked up as his eyes crinkled.

“No worries, Lady Kaguya.”

“Please, call me (Y/N). I literally never want to hear the name _Kaguya_ for the rest of my life.”

He started laughing, and it wasn’t until that moment that you realized just how much you’d missed his smile.


End file.
